Ghosts In Their Head

Painful and sad to watch somebody breakdown due to the ghosts in their head. That crippling feeling of helplessness in the face of another person hurting. One moment smiling. The next, no longer able to contain the tears.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter," they feign.

No. It is not okay. You're crying. It matters.

And silence. Awkward, uncomfortable silence. Occasionally broken by sniffling. Then those tense, bitter minutes spent cramming the pain back into its hiding place. Along with the memories. And ancient specters.

"I'm sorry."

Nothing else would matter from me, anyway. Not within my power to do anything. Anything at all. Trying would only make it worse.

These ghosts. The pain they carry. The lies we spin to try to numb ourselves. So many decades later. They still hold power over us.

And despite knowing all of this, we can't bear to let our ghosts go.

They're okay. They don't matter.

And back to pretending neither of us saw that.